Article January 9, 1902 Issue

Ocean Murmurings

BY JAMES J. ROME.

Who can express the strange thoughts that come to us when sitting alone by the side of the ocean. The broken outline of the shore stretches to right and left; here bold and rugged, contesting the right of the persevering waves; there sloping gently and smoothly in a sand beach, as if kindly inviting them to unfold upon its bosom. Looking further out upon the water the hue deepens and the surface seems less and less broken till the undulations are lost in one great expanse of blue. We are impressed with its fulness, abundance, extensiveness, might, grandeur; and we feel in the presence of a great protecting power that holds all in safety, for He "hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand."

And yet the waves come rolling in, heaving restlessly, returning, one might suppose, from a great conflict where deeds of violence are being perpetrated, or else from where some wild festival is in progress and they have run out from the exciting revelry. they dash against the protruding headland and resisting rocks, but when they come to the sloping beach, they break more quietly upon its breast and the tumult and excitement die away in a subdued hush, ever murmuring hush! hush! hush! as they unfold upon the gentle beach.

Then we are reminded of the restless waves that come rolling, tumbling, and dashing in upon us from the great sea of mortal consciousness,—waves of avarice, envy, jealousy, accusation, condemnation, reproach, disdain, persecution, hate. How shall they be met? When the bold, self-assertive headlands and promontories of stubborn resistance, self-justification, self-will, self-love, ambition, pride, resentment meet these waves, there is a conflict, a dash and splash; but when they are met by the sloping beach of gentleness, forbearance, kindness, patience, charity, love, the waves gradually lessen till a soft murmuring hush is all that is heard, while the remnant of each wave quietly runs back to help quell the force of those still coming; their turbulent waters are in turn broken, and so we hear the constant song of hush, hush, hush. In the ocean's lullaby we hear the distant echo of the tones of him who spoke to the troubled waters of yore and said unto them, "Peace, be still."

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